Dear Melissa,

I know when I pointed out the girl in the fuzzy boots, you made fun of her. You said that no one can justify fur-lined boots in Atlanta, and you are absolutely right. It will never snow here and we have crap mass transportation, meaning we will never come across a situation where we need to take extra steps to keep our feet warm.

But, Melissa, those boots are cute.

When we were walking around Atlantic Station on Saturday, I noticed the majority of the girls had on the adorable fur-lined boots. I looked down at my own jeans and saw them hang on the outside of my shoes (they were Nikes, making tucking them inside a little difficult, but that's besides the point) and I too wanted to tuck my jeans inside the furry boots. I said as much to you and you laughed at me, telling me I would look as ridiculous as those girls.

I agreed, but secretly, I don't think they look ridiculous.

When we went shoe shopping, you rolled your eyes while I pranced around the furry boots. However, you were patient and allowed me to try on one pair, and yes those boots were ridiculous. And thank you for being a friend and allowing me to entertain my obsession.

You said I've changed since moving inside the city, that the city has made me fashion conscientious. You said that if I stayed in the suburbs, I wouldn't be obsessed with furry boots. You're right, I probably wouldn't. But if the fish tank is filled with Fox Face (it's a type of fish, just go with this) then I don't want to be a goldfish anymore, even the pretty, big ones you see in those Japanese inspired ponds. (Oh god, that was a terrible metaphor.)

What I didn't tell you, Mel, was that sometimes when I feel down, I spend my lunch hour walking around Phipps or Lenox. I'll walk around until some hottie in a suit fresh from the pages of GQ checks me out. Up and down. It makes me feel great. It just happened on Tuesday with the boots I did buy with you. (Let me give you a tip: Friday and Saturday night they may be called fishnets, but wear them to work and they are called stockings. And they look hot. Hot. Especially with knee length black leather boots and a short skirt. HOT.)

Another thing I didn't tell you was I've been back to the shoe store every day this week, visiting the furry boots. I skipped lunch twice to try them on and prance around the store. I've been to three stores just to compare furry boot selections. I know you're laughing at me right now.

So tipsy from a margarita with the boys last night, I stopped at the store one last time. And I bought the furry boots. I thought of you while the sales lady was ringing them up. I heard you calling me a dumbass (but you were smiling when you said it, so I forgave you). The sales lady opened the box and saw my boots and gasped, "I LOVE these! They are so in right now! You are going to be so happy with these boots!" I too got giddy with her and two perfectly grown women were shrieking about boots at 9 o'clock on a Wednesday night.

I'm happy with my ridiculous, furry boots, Mel. I don't care what you think:



You know what would look perfect with them? A puffy vest.

I can't wait.